


Bleeding Blue

by venusmercury



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Corpses, Dark Past, Gen, Hasegawa Langa is Bad at Feelings, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insecure Kyan Reki, Kyan Reki Deserves Nice Things, Kyan Reki Needs a Hug, Kyan Reki is a Ray of Sunshine, Kyan Reki-centric, M/M, Magical Realism, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Oblivious Kyan Reki, Other, Protective Hasegawa Langa, Sad Hasegawa Langa, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusmercury/pseuds/venusmercury
Summary: Whether it is a blessing or curse, every human is plagued with a particular miracle, no matter how vast or minor.Since the turn of the century, it is the way things have been since the goblins and witches appeared from their abyssal dwellings. Catalyzing two (three if you can consider the cold war to count) great wars that plagued the planet in bloodshed and patches of dead zones.The sky has resembled the war, taking on the color of flames burning- a bright, obnoxious orange that stains the horizon. What little sunlight graces the earth is barely enough to sustain the vegetation. Temperatures soon drop colder as a white fog becomes something of urban legend rather than a natural phenomenon. They mark the arrival of death; curses preluding to a new dead zone, a new place where only the goblins hunts and the cursed ones walk.
Relationships: Chinen Miya & Higa Hiromi | Shadow & Kyan Reki, Chinen Miya/Kyan Reki, Hasegawa Langa & Hasegawa Langa's Mother, Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki, Hasegawa Langa/Shindo Ainosuke | Adam, Kikuchi Tadashi & Shindo Ainosuke | Adam, Kyan Reki/Everyone, Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Bleeding Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Darkling, I Listen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/396130) by [You_Light_The_Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Light_The_Sky/pseuds/You_Light_The_Sky). 



> Hi, it's me again.   
> Ok, so this hasn't been done yet, but every fandom needs a supernatural fanfic and I am providing. Updates might be slow because I'm writing another fic (go read it if you haven't: Phantom Touch), but this story will be completed.   
> I hope i can execute this idea well for what i have envisioned, but hopefully you guys enjoy.

_“Because I could not stop for Death –_   


_He kindly stopped for me –_   


_The Carriage held but just Ourselves –_   


_ And Immortality” _

_ ~  _ _ Emily Dickinson _

Whether it is  a  bless ing or curse, every human is plagued with a particular  miracle, no matter how  vast or  minor .

Since the turn of the century, it is the way things have been since the goblins and witches  appeared from their abyssal dwellings . Catalyzing two (three if you can consider the cold wa r to count) great wars that plagued the planet in blo odshed and patches of dead zones.

The sky has resembled the war, taking on the color of flames burning \- a bright, obnoxious orange that stains the horizon.  What little sunlight graces the earth is barely enough to sustain the  vegetation. Temperatures soon drop colder  as  a white fog becomes something of urban legend rather than  a natural phenomenon. They mark the arrival of death; curses preluding to a new dead zone, a new place where only the goblins  hunts  and the cursed ones walk.

Reki , sometimes, likes to imagine what the sun looked like. Hardly anyone remembers after so many years, but he’s heard stories from the older women in his town describing what warmth must feel like- pure, unsaturated warmth t hat lit up your face. 

Trivial as it was,  Reki had always loved the sun, though he never knew it as anything other than a child’s dream. He remembers asking his grandmot her once, when he was younger, after listening to the old shopkeepers tell tall tales as he finished his deliveries. 

“What is sunlight?” He asked innocently. 

He watched her face contort into what he believes to be anguish like a deer caught in headlights. She never answered his question and he never asked again. 

The wars aren’t as long as they used to be. Though, all the men are called to service once they graduate high school. At eighteen, he was nervous and excited, finding the id ea all too surreal: a young man’s naiveness is what his commanding  officers said. Now, no more than two years later, war has stained him. He's lost too many  comrades to even imagine sm iling when he hears a young boy says he wants to be a soldier.  Reki finds there is no honor in fighting witches and goblins: they have no conscious of killing someone’s son and he has no conscious of killing monsters.

He’s been fighting for what seems to be all his life to find warmth that now everything he’s a bit too cold. They’ve long forgotten what it’s like to feel warm. It’s not hard when all you see is grey  smoke- and blood-stained skies. It is a false sense of heat that leaves you hungry for what could have been but will never be. 

Reki Kyan only knows how to  heal , how to kill, and how to survive. 

Miracles are spoken so highly of, even if they are nothing more than ostentatious at best, and  execrable at worst. Some think of them as gift granted by some higher  deity \- a calling for them to fight. While others haven’t been delud ed into realizing their miracles are no  better than curses (one casted by a witch itself.)  Reki once had a neighbor  whose single touch could put a person to sleep ,  so he was never allowed to touch the woman, lest he find himself in a coma for months. There is some use to a power like that, he assumes, in a situatio n of combat possibly, but he could see why the woman killed herself after believing so long that she was cursed to be alone. 

Reki can rest a bit easy though. When his mother had his two younger sisters, he feared for their safety. He feared for their miracle. At seven years old, he could barely sleep at night without  listening to his parents speak in hushed voices trying to figure out what their girls may develop. His mother had the simple gift of a healing touch. It was a simple gift that d idn’t leave a long-lasting affect, yet it went a long way for a kid who was constantly get bumps and scrapes.  Reki thought she was magical in that aspect. It wasn’t until he got older than he realized miracles come with a price. Her healing touch was an exchange of her life  energy for another’s. It scared him to think of what she might have done if he had been seriously injured in combat- would she have risked her life to save him?

Reki inherited that trait from her. Protective and bound to do what was right, he knew what she was going to do before she did it. His mother was a saint and sometimes it felt like she didn’t belong here.  Fortunately, his sisters had the miracle of green thumbs- one being able to grow flowers and the other being able to grow fruits. Nothing harmful and plenty useful.  Reki’s father was nothing special either being able to run numbers  methodically faster than a computer. A smart, easy-going man that matched perfectly into the crazy household of five. 

Reki truly believes in some ways he is blessed. Some gifts seem so harmless. A child who can c hange the color of water (fun, adorable, and entertaining, until  Reki watches that same child change the color of  streetlights causing an intersection accident killing ten people  and  Reki loses his childhood  friend...) or an old man who hears every sound as pleasant no matter what  he is listening too (less appealing to think about when  Reki speaks with another man with the same ability but told  Reki that he to use it  in prison to go to sleep listening to the screams of inmate being tortured.)

Reki’s miracle is  healing . 

Unlike his mother,  Reki is able to go beyond scrapes and bruises.  Restoration is what his mentors called it: the ability to restore a living thing to its  original state. It is a miracle truly that requires more  energy (life force) than most o ther healers.  Reki dies a little inside every time he saves a life, but that never bothered him. He can’t heal himself, which is irony to all this.  Reki , who licks his own wounds,  doesn’t mind this fact either. What’s one life to a hundred?

To him, a miracle is either a blessing or a curse. It simply is what it is. In a world of burning skies and  death, he must be able to accept this or drown in his own self-doubt.

Then  Reki breaks his arm .

His world becomes a red and cold as the ones he has lived in since the fog swallowed up the real one.

-

Reki doesn’t go home. 

They inform him that he’s being sent back home to Okinawa. They tell him that an explosion  pinned him deep underground. His arm was crushed.  They were able to save it-if this is what they call saving it .  Reki , being a healer, probably could have  fixed it, but there is no one like him. The emptiness  growing in his chest that makes him numb. He can’t feel his right arm- he wonders if he ever will. On a good day, he can ho ld a pen. He’ll never be able to heal professionally (not that he can’t just heal without instruments, though it will eventually kill him.) On a bad day , his right arm shakes so badly that he  must fight the urge to cut it off.  The scars that run down the skin are a reminder of the bodies he’s seen, mutilated and discarded- some bitten into.

The fog took it. You never know what the fog will take next when it arrives. Sometimes it takes nothing. Sometimes it brings its beasts and goblins with it, taking lives and devou ring everything in its path leaving nothing to waste. He’d never seen fog so dense, so close until he was buried in it.

He watched it take his unit.... take his  spirit.

Self-doubt is undulate as it brings insecurity, pain, and memories.  Reki feels useless now. He avoids home for it scares him to face anyone. He presses his left palm into his right shoulder praying for a miracle he knows won’t come. The serenity of the boy he used to be is dead; it scares him to hear the echoing voices of his superiors.

_ Go home now, you are relieved from your duties. _

All he hears is  _ You are not good enough now. Useless. _

Reki never liked being a soldier. His hands ache for the feel of a gun that he’s gotten used to carrying. His back arches against the soft cot craving a hard landscape.  His dreams play on loop of men shouting for him to heal them, only to be dragging into the fog as they claw at his arms for help. He feels their accusatory glares lined with black veins bleeding bl ue for someone to save them. Blood so bright shines like that of stars against the barren landscape that he almost mistakes it for infinity. The fog surrounds him, drowns him darkness until he’s floating in nothing.  Reki hears the murmurs. The fog speaks without a real voice, summoning him...

_ A curse on you.... _ it whispers.  _ Come. Come. A curse on you. _

They said he screamed, thrashes in his sleep and then wakes up, blood shot eyes staring ahead as if he is possessed. His eyes are empty and blank as if there is nothing there. They said he screamed out a name they don’ t recognize (not yet anyway) but it’s so slurred that they can’t make out who he is calling too. 

It comes with no surprise that when they send him back home a week later than scheduled,  Reki avoids visiting his family fir st, opting instead to see his newly assigned therapist.

-

“Tell me a little bit about yourself, Mr. Kyan,” says  Maruko in a  distant and professional tone. Her miracle is apathy- she can disconnect from emotional bondages. Therapists that are hired often have empathy or apathy, “ How have you’ve been adjusting since being back home?”

“I’ve been well. Didn’t realize I was so homesick.”

Reki jokes, scratching the back of his neck. Home sick comes out in a brittle tone as if its sour to say. He is home sick, so sick of being here when he was better off doing something else. His eyes catch the glint of a sheen from the nearby glass windows they’re putting up at the new construction site.  Okinawa Two is full of construction since the dead zone has erupted several years ago  took root in the downtown heart of the island. Most people dub that Okinawa Dead or Okinawa One. The dome of thick, obsidian fog stretches for miles , encompassing the whole area in shadows.

No one has claimed responsibility for  calamity resulting from the dead zone. Rumor suggests there is a man who worked for a powerful family that’ll pay millions to finance  expeditors . Th e men and women that go in never return. No one who dares to enter the dead zone ever comes back. If they do, it’s only remains left, barely enough to identify them.

As his therapist continues to lecture him about their meetings and scheduling and housekeeping,  Reki often takes in the small details of the road. Absentmindedly, he wonders if O kinawa One is still the same as it was before the impenetrable black fog swallowed it up. He had visited it once- he loved the ocean breeze and bustling of the city. His moth er promised they’d take a holiday there when he graduated from high school. They never got the chance.

Now the fog seems to haunt him. It kisses his ears, sliding into his head, flashing images of poorly lit streets, a  Farris wheel and  a mansion, of abandoned buildings and a burning flame in the sky resembling a that shines brightly through the haze.  It shows him images of goblins lurking within, of a figure in the center, calling his name.

_ Come to me  _ _ Reki _ _ Kyan. Take a walk in the fog. _

“- and speak to me if you seem to be suffering from anything abnormal...  Reki ? Is there something wrong with you? Your attention seems preoccupied,”  Mar uko monotonous tone drones.

_ I can hear it calling me,  _ he thinks,  _ I think I’m losing my mind and it wants me to go. _

“I apologize,” he keeps his face blank, “I’m fine, thank you.”

A lie, but the one he tells himself and everyone else anyway because  Reki is scared that he is far from fine.

He ends up leaving the session early feigning illness.

__

Reki takes up residence in the grittier part of Okinawa Two, the area closest to the black fog. The rent is so cheap that  Reki sur mises that he could buy three flats twice over and not have to worry about tapping into his savings. No one wants to live this close to the borders of dead zones. A wandering addict or drunk have  known to misstep and enter the fog by accident, never being heard from again. There is something truly re probate about waking up in the morning and the first thing you see is the dead zone. It is quite  frightening. 

Naturally,  Reki struggles to adjust to it.

He is reluctant to choose a flat so close to the dead zone. The rooms are hardly what they used to be. The wallpapers are stained with wear, the floors aged, and scratched from previous owners that lived befo re him. The furniture is wrapped in plastic with a heavy layer of dust left to its leisure. Cobwebs weep, disturbed in the corner after a hasty  sweep of the area.

Yet something draws him here. One glance out the window and the proximity of the fog causes something to hum in his veins. The  whispers turn to gunfire and shouting in his dream s.  Reki signs the lease the same day. The landlord,  his old boss from when he worked at a skate shop in high school, claps his back and smiles with delight. He invites  Reki downstairs for a drink.

(His miracle is being able to fix any broken object. The next day, when  Reki is moving his stuff in,  his boss has already repaired the heater and ac unit as well as one of the pipes in the bathroom.)

Reki spends his days helping his boss at the shop he still owns. People still skate surprisingly though the pair has to travel the twenty minutes into Okinawa Two to open up every morning. It saves  Reki on having to hunt for  unemployment. He's not bad at making repairs or building custom designs either, though he is nowhere near his boss’ level. 

When he’s not at work or visiting his family,  Reki wanders through the quiet streets of his neighborhood, walking along the edge of the  fog, sometimes stopping to stare. He’s heard theories on what’s behind there. Sometimes the fog’s murmurs are clear as a spring day and other times, it’s silent. The static signal it mi mics is that of a television and  Reki is trying to find the right frequency. On occasion, he can hear growls and moans from the other side.

When dusk falls,  Reki lays on the floor of his bedroom, ignoring the bed behind him and sleeps. The wind carries screams that make for a morbid lullab y. His boss tells him that they occur every night and it comes from within the fog. He has a weary look in his eyes whenever he speaks about the dead zone as if anticipating  Reki will disappear the next day.

He doesn’t and their days go on as they have always been. His boss holds back nothing once he grows to trust that  Reki will stay. He’s fascinated by the dead zone and all its oddities.  Reki’s interest in the  dead zone isn’t anything he’s proud of, but it’s something of a craving that isn’t satisfied earning him endearment from his boss. 

“It’s  scary, isn’t it?” His boss asks one day as they share a  sand which .  Reki looks over at him, but the man has a lost look in his eyes . “ One day this morbid fascination will get us killed.”

Reki doesn’t go back to the clinic. His mother works at a nice one and even offers to set him up an internship, but he can’t control the numbness of his heart when he looks down to find another dead body at h is feet. He knows it’s not real, but he tells her, he’s found a nice job that pays enough. Every month, he sends his family the check. 

Every month, they send it back to him.

Okinawa Two is a town nothing more than a mask.  The buildings are modern and new. People smile too big and greet each other happily (all the while hiding hidden grimaces.) Everyone does their best to ignore the presence of the black dome t hat takes up the horizon. They pretend that it doesn’t exist. They ignore the orange clouds that hide a sun. It’s like there is no war beyond the borders of their home- there are no witches or goblins or curses unless told in hushed voices as if it is a fairy tale. 

They can so easily ignore it because they don’t know the  _ fog  _ the way  Reki does.

_ Come,  _ _ Reki _ _ Kyan, come inside.  _

He can’t help but hope this is some twisted nightmare and one day, he will wake up to clear skies and sun shining. 

__

When his boss doesn’t show up to work,  Reki tries to think nothing of it. It’s been three days so far and he is anxious.  Reki has far and few friends, most of them dead, but one or two he says hi too wh en they stop by. Other than that, his sole comfort is the older man who shows no pity or discomfort in his presence. 

He is not stupid, contrary to how he is usually perceives.  Reki locks up again tonight and feels the air tickle his bare skin as something slither downs his spine. 

He  _ knows. _

Reki runs. He runs until the streets turn too black to make out his own hand as he races around the corners until he reaches the apartment. He reaches the front door only to find the  porch light off. The other  residence never  seems to bother  to turn it on, but his boss always  caleld to make sure someone did in advance.

He rushes to the first door on the right, turning the handle to find it opens. No one is home. The smell of old meat and spoiled milk are nothing to the smell of blood and he feels himself growing nauseated. His right arm aches  from the exertion of running so many miles but the pain is shortly beat out by his mind yelling,  _ not another one. Please don’t take him because of me. _

__

His grandmother, when her bouts of sanity sprung abruptly, would sit him on her knee and tell him that miracles were like tumors that only grew the more they went unchecked. Eventually, you would die trying to ignore it.  Reki couldn’t let another person die. It seemed foolish to do this for a stranger, but then again, he  had served for two years fighting for strangers. His mother had always said he was too protective. He rather shelter those around him than let them experience life for themselves.

Life was cruel and unyielding. Death was inevitable. Still,  Reki couldn’t let go. He had lost too much to let go now.

_ Take me instead,  _ he thought as closes the door behind him. He swears he hears a soft chuckle,  a tenor sound. He thinks that the fog is actually  _ watching  _ him, enjoying this.  Reki looks out the front door window and only sees the same rising black mist  miles away. 

It’s not likely... but then again... either are talking fogs and goblins.

Reki’s phone buzzes in his back pocket. He ignores it. It rings crystal clear, echoing through the empty, hallow walkway, but he can’t seem to answer.

He thinks about the fog’s ghastly laughter following him all the way up the stairs to his own flat. 

_ Come to me,  _ _ Reki _ _ Kyan. Come to me.  _

__

“Hello  Reki , we’ve seem to have missed you, but I’m just calling to remind you that you owe us a visit this week. I hope things aren’t too busy at the shop. Call us back when you can. Your sisters are excited to see y ou for dinner. Love you lots.”

“ Reki , hey man, long time no see. I meant what I said at the shop about meeting up for dinner. I saw a new shop opened near the store, so call me back when you get a chance. Bye.”

“ Reki , uh you better not be flaking out on us again. I know you still got your skating moves so meet us up at the park later and show off a bit. It’s been too long.”

The voicemails go unanswered. 

__

Reki packs his pistol, slipping it in a leather gun holster that his troop gave to him as a present for his first excursion. He packs several supplies of food , a medical kit, and a few hoodies for warmth, a sleeping bag, rope, a knife, a watch (if time worked the same in the dead zone) and finally, he does slip  his phone into the backpack. The bag is army grade and sturdy, having a compartment for all the items.

Reki is hallway down the stairs when he curses. Falling into an  awkward squat, he r ubs his hands over his face. Was he really doing this? Could he really save that  man? It was bad enough he could barely make it out alive the first time he encountered a fog in service, but this was different. It wasn’t a military operation. It was a broken man rescuing someone he didn’t even know if they wanted to be saved. 

__

His boss ushers him to sit down in the sitting room where two cups of coffee await them.  Reki notices that even when he doesn’t stay for a drink, there is always two cups se t up like there are two chairs as well. Before he can protest, his boss has shoved some cookies into his hand and  Reki can’t do anything but politely accept them.

“I saw you wandering near it the other day, ya know?”

He leans over, grasping  Reki’s wrist with an iron grip. It's terrifying how intense this man can be when he wants to be. 

“You want to go in?”

Reki doesn’t say anything, unsure how to explain it.

“The fog,” the older man  clarifies . “That’s where all the lost souls wander off too. People mad enough to live this close don’t last long. It speaks to them, ya know. Talks to them until they go insane and give up fighting , walking into the black mist.”

Reki heart skips a beat. “I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

His gaze is all-knowing as his frown deepens. Something truly pains him, but  Reki doesn’t pry further as to why the man is telling him now.

“Who would? They don’t want you to know.”

“They?”  Reki raises an eyebrow.

“The organizations. The government. The people in power. The witches. You really think they’re any different,” the man says in a hushed voice.

Reki shouldn’t encourage him anymore, but he’s lost his grip on reality a long time ago. His boss’ story only fuels his overly ambitious imagination causing his anxiety to spike. No more than he wants to avoid it, it’s an obsession.  Reki needs to know more, more than he needs to be alive.

“Does it speak to you too?”

His lips curve into a sad attempt at what would have been a smile long ago.

“It doesn’t want me... I doubt it ever will, but it does have something I want,” he stares into his untouched cup of coffee. “I was there , in Okinawa One, when it first appeared. There was darkness everywhere. People were screaming but I could never tell from  were . There was nothing,  absolutely nothing. It was like staring into an infinite  void. There was no light. No electricity. I couldn’t see my own hands,” he lets out a raspy laugh, “then I was outside this  building, on the other side of the fog, along with a few hundred of us. The fog just rejected us. We were deemed  _ too boring  _ for its game, and  so it has been for the last couple of years.”

His hands grasps  Reki’s knee. 

“I lost someone that day that I can’t ever get back.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter? We all lose someone. In the end, we either die out here or die in there, unless it wants you.”

His boss looks him dead in the eyes before warning him, 

“You’re a good boy,  Reki Kyan, but understand this, if it really wants you, and you will know, the fog won’t ever let you go.”

__

The roads are empty. There is not another living soul daring to come this close to the edge. Only  Reki , his sling for his arm, and his backpack stand at the edge of the town where it meets the smoky  entrails of the great wall of mist. He looks back, only once, eyes catching glimpses of stained windows and broken rooftops. What part of the city has this been  before the dead zone appeared? It was probably bustling with  pretty college girls and fancy businessmen, buses flowing up and down  through hectic traffic like blood through the veins. Now it is a gh ost town (no life survives where the fog dwells.)

Reki turns back to the fog itself.

“Ok,” he speaks conversationally, “You’ve invited me this far, so I’ll go in, find my boss, and then leave.”

Reki would laugh if this weren’t his actual reality. It’s crazy he’s even conversing with innate objects, yet it feels much more natural than not. He can feel the hairs on the nape of his neck rise: it wa tches him. He can sense it, so  Reki stares back.

He’s shaking, whether it be out of fear or the chill of the air dropping around him, he doesn’t know. However,  Reki can’t a fford to dwell on this. His body moves  automatically, and he imagines he’s back in the military, following orders. It’s all  instinct from here on out and he badly wants to call his mother one last tim e. 

Walking in doesn’t feel like walking in. A part of his mind is screaming  _ run back while you can. _ There is no distinction between the ‘wall’ of fog and  Okinawa Two. His steps fall in line and he feels fine as if it’s a regular stroll down the street. However,  Reki’s left hand rests on his gun holster. Vigilant and calm, he can vi sibly see the area around him darkening. Slowing the mist turns thicker, blurring anything out of his direct scope of view. The murmurs in his head grow static and  more violent.  Reki can feel his skin crawl as if the fog is purposely brushing up against him.

Thirty-five steps in;  Reki glances over his shoulder to still see Okinawa Two behind him.

The next step he takes casts him into complete darkness.

__

There is nothing here. Absolutely nothing. It is almost suffocating. The details his boss described are too vivid that  Reki nearly sinks to the ground. Covering his mouth, holding back a scream, he concentrat es on moving forward. The black engulfs him. It would be easier to believe he’s dead, if not for the shaking of his body and the frantic orchestra of his  heartbeat. 

_ Calm down,  _ _ Reki _ _. _

He removes his right hand from the sling and keeps it outstretched in front of him in case he bumps into anything. His steps are loud, ec hoing around him. It is silent for once. His eyes, wide with terror, look for any movement. The air seems to shift, matching his pace , matching his height, matching him entirely that its eerie. His left hand tightens around the gun.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking. What seems like hours, could be days or minutes, or infinity.  Reki glances down at his wrist, but there is nothing to see. After two- hundred and eighty-five steps, he wants to sink to the ground and cry. Scream  until his lungs implod e because the darkness is overwhelming.

“Tad bit dramatic,”  Reki vexes. He is far from tired. The treks his caravan did would last for miles when the trucks broke down. They would walk all night if it meant getting  back to headquarters or a mission objective. “Tiring people to death is a new one. I thought for sure goblins would come and eat me then throw my bones out. That's the rumor anyway.”

Reki shrugs at his own comment. Fog doesn't exactly speak up, which is why he is shocked when the darkness seems to lift just enough for  Reki to make out the out line of his  own feet. There are outlines of grey objects now. He can make out a street post, some scattered trees and a car in the distance. The fog seems to fall against his skin chilling it, like snowflakes whirling around in a  snowstorm slinging to any surface with fiery .

Reki takes his gun from the holster and readies to fire it.

The fog seems amused by his antics (“ _ then let’s play,  _ _ Reki _ _ ”) _ .  It is then that  Reki makes out the first shadow. 

It coms at him in the form of splatter paint across a canvas- wild and untamed- launching its body (or bodies) into the air before landing. It splits ap art into more beasts of some sort, larger than any cat  Reki has seen. If he had to guess, they could be leopards or panthers. He can make out their snarls from hear, lou der than most truck engines. 

Arm steady, he shoots the phantom creature aiming directly between where he assumes is its forehead.

It lets out a pained yowl, a sound worse than a dying man’s scream during a full  blwon battle.  Reki can’t stop the thoughts from falling before his eyes like a movie playing around him . He shoots, the recoils of its force familiar in his hand. It is a strange nostalgia that washes over him as he reloads and fires again. His left hand’s grip is weaker-  Reki's used to firing with his right hand...

One creature  swipe at him and he barely misses the streak of black claws before he shoots it down. They’re huge compared to him.  Reki didn’t realize what he was doing when he walked in here acting as if it would be easy.  One could easily swallow his shorter stature without  issues.

Reki chokes on air, fear boiling in his stomach causing it to drop. He's afraid. He knows it. He reeks of fear, but his adrenaline is spiked, and his chest is numb enough to push any harboring  emotions away as he focuses on living. His right-hand braces itself under the left to steady the gun and he shoots more rounds, hitting the beasts wherever he can. The shadows swallow each other and loop into each other playing tricks on his vision as the grey tones transform. 

The creatures don’t stop their pursuit, even when they get hit. Now, he can feel himself growing frustrated.

“Goblins,”  Reki inquires.

The fog chuckles.

They are nearly on him now.  Reki is not fast nor was he ever an amazing athlete, but he cou ld hold his own against anyone if need be. Still, the curses he utters to the wind can’t stop the burning in his throat as the loud howls thrum into his ears. Wincing, he d odges claws and nips as he turns down what can be called a street. Up ahead, there is something of a tree. It is  bare with low lying branches and  perfectly symmetrical . If he’s careful of the thin branches, he can climb it . 

Feet pounding the ground, chest aching, and heart crashing into his ribcage,  Reki sprints for dear life. The fog laughs around him and the creatures, he can feel their hot breaths on his skin. He  can barely make out his own surroundings as the area begins to darken again. The tree is almost a mirage at this point as he reaches for the first branch. 

Reki’s feet hit something hard before he falls into his right shoulder. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his body contorts in pain. His wild eyes are hood ed in a plethora of emotions, seeking out anything familiar but only seeing shadows and hearing things chasing him.

It’s too late to scream, but he does so anyway push himself onto his knees and holding his arm into place. His mouth tastes like blood. He spits and tries to stay low.

“Who’s there?” He croaks, knowing he should stay quiet. His voice is a magnet to anything supernatural at this point. 

Something mewls by his head and jumps back startles. Instinctively, his body yells for him to run, that he will only get ki lled if he stops. 

But  Reki hears the sound of a harsh whimper and he can’t leave whatever he’s tripped over. It’s alive and he may have hurt it.

Right arm akimbo,  Reki prods cautiously around him when his hands brush against something wet. Blood.  He moves in closer, hovering over it as his hands make-out the outline of this creature. The further up he moves, he feels two small fury, pointed peaks suggesting ears, a wet, fleshy nose, whiskers, sharp feline teeth...

Eyes aglow when  Reki meets its gaze. Sharp, crystalline blue eyes that bore  into his own coppery colored ones.

It's a cat... a big cat, nothing like the panthers he sees at the zoo. It’s a large, w hite panther whose species and size must be a result of the fog.  Reki could  ride it if were at full health. It’s also  large enough to possible swallow  Reki whole.

“Awesome.” He  mumbled , cautious of his volume in light of the situation.

When the panther lets out a low whine,  Reki begins to a ssess it for a wound.

His hands pry blindly into the beast’s space . Just as  Reki stumbles upon a gash, the growls from earlier arise from beyond where they dwell. It is rather unnerving, but he ke eps a hand hovering near the panther’s head and raises his gun.

The goosebumps ache on his skin as  sweat trickled down the side of  his face.  Reki doesn’t need light  to know that they’re  surrounded and heavily outnumbered. He can just make out the eerie, red gl int of eyes on the  twilight, watching him from all sides. He has difficulty concentrating on where to shoot. He knows he won’t be able to get all of them. They will rip him apart.

Glancing down at the panther, it s eyes are on him. He can’t tell if it agrees with him or is waiting to see what happens. It’s disturbing how human those eyes seem.

Protectively, he steps in front of it, worst-case scenario, at least it'll be able to run possibly while they pick at  Reki ’s flesh. The panther’s gaze is so piercing, it’s like a bullet going through the back of his head. He fights the shiver that travels down his spine. Since death is inevitable, he might as well try to protect the animal; it’s a good way to die anyway.

“Come at me!”  Reki yells at the shadowy creatures swarming. “Come at me you filthy animals!”

A harsh silence falls upon them as the fog ceases laughter.

The creatures  rise like a tidal wave before crashing down with teeth bared and claws lashing at his face.  Reki throws himself over the panther’s  still body, throwing all of his miracle into the feline’s wounds knowing that his power never worked when he was under distress ( _ please save this creature, please let him live.)  _ Reki can’t  let another thing idea on his watch a s he pulls the trigger, aiming for the beyond .

__

“Daddy, what are goblins?” He asked  his father because his grandmother had  relapsed yet again into a bout of insanity.  Reki held her hand as they sat in the hospital watching over her as she spewed gibberish. His father wasn’t one to  think beyond what was absolutely necessary and he hardly spoke up, but  Reki caught something of recognition in the man’s eyes before the flame died down. His father answered things out of necessity, if indifferent.  Reki blamed his gift for that robotic defense mechanism.

His father’s attention isn’t on him, but he's walking mother who reaches out for ghosts long passed.

“Creatures of habit. Without thought, they are darkness itself.  They came from the fog and they must return to the fog. It’s often hypothesized that the fog is a natural niche for them, allowing them to breed provided given circumstances.  Others believe dead zones are necessary for witches to create them from plant and human life.”

“Ah, ”  Reki nodded, proud that he understood had of what his father had said.

“Why do witches do that stuff?”

“To curse us, cause suffering”

“But why?”  Reki frowns, feeling his grandmother squeeze his hand. Why would someone intentionally want to cause such pain?

“Its in their nature, ” he says quietly under the hum of machines,  “they don’t really need a reason.”

____

He screams forgetting what his voice sounds like. Teeth sink into his right arm and it feels like he’s falling all over again. His body arches in pain as his eyes roll back into unconsciousness. His skin is  burning all over as if curses are surging through his veins. Something moves his body, flips him over o nto a dryer patch of (grass?) as the blood pools around him.

There are pained growls and grunts beyond him. Something (or  _ someone) _ has jumped in front of him. Reki  hears bodies falling to the ground, unmistakable t earing of flesh and squirts of blood. He doesn’t move, eyes barely open as he stares at shadows realizing only one remains standing. 

The panther by his side is now in front of him, eyes fixed on Reki’s next move. He’s thankful his miracle worked. The panther seems fully healed as it strides confidently over to him. It is as  pale as snow itself amongst the smoot-colored backdrop. It is as otherworldly as it is ferocious, the very image of a goblin from the tales his grandmother had read to him once when she was slipping into madness. 

Reki lets out a laugh. It is so hysterical that he can’t help but clutch his side in pain as blood spills warmth upon his flesh leaving him quivering. He’s amazed his gift worked. He's amazed this beast stands before him, not even devouring him like it had been the other creatures mere seconds ago. He can hardly keep his eyes off the panther’s icy- blue orbs.

“You... you saved me.”

It inclines his head, s lowly making its way over to him. Its moist nose pokes at his neck, inhaling his scent before making a strange purring sound at the back of its throat. It bares its teeth either startled by its overreaction or surprised that Reki is so still. He chooses the latter because he feels a rough tongue glide across his skin. When he tries to move away, it yips at him with a cold reprimand. 

Reki slumps against the ground, coughing and thinking about what will happen if does die here, in the fog after all. It hasn’t spoken to him yet. For now, all is silent like the early morning mourners who walk the streets remembering the ones they lost. Reki doesn’t feel nervous anymore, the adrenaline subsiding and his heart slowing. His thoughts slur until all he can make out is  _ safesafesafe _ _... _ He smiles, raises a hand and running numb fingers down the panther’s snout.

“I appreciate you...” He murmurs weakly before everything fades away.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comment below any thoughts or questions and I hope you love reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this.


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